Sea Day

Sea Day. Sailing through the Red Sea. I had no idea this sea was really red. I had thought it to be just a name but the waters are bright red like blood.

Very eventful day. This morning two passengers fell or were thrown off the aft deck. The ship turned around as soon as it was able, but neither was found.

As we were approaching the area where they were thought to have fallen, suddenly there were about a dozen boats speeding toward us. We were almost at a stop and it takes a ship quite a while to build up speed. One of the small boats was yelling at us over a bull horn. It was ordering us to allow them to board or they would fire rockets at us.

We could feel the ship trying to gain speed and we could see there was no intention to let them board if it could be helped. As we started to gain speed a rocket was fired at us. It hit about two floors above us and made a big explosion.

Oh heck with it. I’m tired of writing and I need a nap. April Fool.

About the only thing that happened out of the ordinary was an ice party. Back in LA, we were given parkas as gifts. There has not been much use for them, so they made a party in a large walk in freezer. Everyone had to wear their new parkas and we were led to this freezer. There were drinks and hot and cold canapés. They had removed everything from this freezer except some ice carvings. They had made a bar out of ice blocks. Very cute but shtupid.

No, the sea waters are not really red. They are sea color. That was an April Fool too.

You will probably not hear from us for a couple of three days unless I get a chance to write later tonight. We are due to arrive in Safaga, Egypt tomorrow. We are suppose to be transferred to a hotel right at the ruins. We will only be there two days and the one night.

April Fooler Sherm Out.

Sea Day: Gulf of Aden

Another sea day, in the Gulf of Aden, en route to Safaga. Nothing else happened except Bobbi had her nails and toes done. That makes her happy and me poor.

Poor Sherm Out

Salalah, Oman

Salalah, Oman. Oh man, we’re still in Oman.

The thing to do here was to see Job’s tomb. To do this you must be ready to leave at 7:00 AM, as the ship leaves at noon. Bobbi does no do, ready to leave at 7:00 AM. There is another problem here. The cab drivers only work once every four or five days and must totally rip off the tourists on that day they do work. The town is about twelve miles away from the dock. The cab union does not allow any walking on the dock and will not allow a shuttle into town. The city does provide two small mini buses to take you from the ship to the port gate. From there it costs $30 US each way to town and back by taxi. That’s $60 to go to town and back, and town ain’t much. Job’s tomb is thirty miles away. To go there by taxi you must buy them a new automobile, each way, I think. So we watched cargo ships go in and out of the port all morning. Those idiot cabbies can keep their fares, but won’t get me to ride.

We heard one lady telling of her marvelous experience with those sweet folk. She had gone into town with another lady. When they came back the cab driver demanded more money. Nice people. Thought they could bully a couple of elderly women. Sounds like another good place to test bombs.

We left at 1:00 PM, probably because the buses were late coming back from the tours.

Salalah Taxi Bomber Sherm Out

Sea Day

Sea day. Once fully awake I discovered another bruise on my right wrist. I found it because I found blood on my bed sheets. I then just followed the trail and wa la. Whatever leaked the blood on bed was no longer there. So I had to go to deductive reasoning. First thought was to fully wake up and try to remember if I had done something to offend Bobbi that would cause her to get really mad at me and thus cut my throat. She claims I offend her all the time but I did not remember anything more offensive then the usual offences, she has become use to. Just to be sure, I did check my neck anyhow. I felt my neck and found nothing there, but as my hand was coming back from feeling my neck, wa la.

Wa la must be a French word and I am sure I am spelling it wrong. When these French folk bring me something they usually say wa la as they put it on the table. In the French restaurant they make a big production of having several wait staff remove the large silver plate covers all at once and then they say wa la. It must mean something like, there it is. But I digress.

Back to the mystery. There on my still moving right wrist was some blood. I examined my wrist and sure enough. This was not just a spot where blood had dropped, but the source of the blood. Am I Sherlock or what?

Bobbi did have a few Band-Aids and I had Neosporin. I washed the wound with soap and water and after drying it I placed aforementioned medication and Band-Aid upon it. I believe I successfully completed the procedure in time and amputation will not be necessary.

Once in daylight, the mark on my head, mentioned yesterday, looked far worse. Many people asked what happened to me, all day long. As I said I would, I just replied, “she did it.”

Those of you concerned with my other malady. Thank you very much for caring. I received 23 emails on the subject, believe it or not. They were pretty much divided between those sounding genuinely concerned with my health and those who gleefully taunted me. For that second group. I have written your names on a piece of paper. When I get to the holy land I am going to pray for you to experience the same problem, first hand! I even got one from my accountant. This is of course tax season. He never even answers my phone calls this time of year, and I sometimes even pay him for his services. But he did, not only, take the time to read this crap. He was one of those who couldn’t wait to write about his happiness to hear of my unfortunate situation. I think that is good reason to put him at the top of that list. And to think they made all those nasty lawyer jokes and never a word about CPAs. I wouldn’t mention his name, but Your turn is coming,

“JIM”!

As for the problem that caused so many responses. There has been no reoccurrence. Actually, there has been nothing and soon I may be looking for the Ex Lax or something. But do not fear. Now knowing how interested everyone is, about my bowels, I will keep you informed.

Banged Bloodied Bloated Bandied Sherman Out

Muscat, Oman

Muscat, Oman. This place too, was very mountainous. It is very clean and far more built up then Fujairah. It was not the ultra resort city of Dubai, but still very nice in at least the places we were shown. Like most other Muslim cities, there were Mosques every 500 meters as required by Muslim law. The beaches were very nice and there were many green areas. Most of the shopping was at bazaars or souks. We saw no shopping malls like those at home. As the literature says, this place is much more the real thing and not artificial like most of the resort areas in the region.

As usual in places we have not been and know nothing about, we took a bus tour. First was a drive through a nice residential area and then on to the Grand Mosque.

This thing is unreal. Inside and out everything is the finest marble. Floors, walls, columns, and ceilings inside and out. The interior is the size of a football field. The four entrances outside are each equal in size and they too are all in marble. The interior is carpeted in hand woven materials and runs from wall to wall taking three years to finish. There are hand carved doors, mosaics on the walls, stained glass windows, and highly decorated domed ceilings with elaborate crystal chandeliers. Everything was gorgeous and very tastefully done except they make you take off your shoes to walk inside, but socks were okay. Everyone had to wear shirts with sleeves and the women’s had to be down to the wrist. No shorts were allowed and men and women had to wear clothes that covered the ankles. Women had to also wear something to completely cover their heads and hair. Bobbi was really neat in a black long scarf covering her head and most of her face. She looked like and could have passed for a real Muslim.

Almost all the mosques, everywhere we have been, do not allow us infidels to enter. This one not only allowed it, but encouraged it and even allowed picture taking with flash and movie camera.

Next was back the same way we came along the ocean. We passed by the ship on our way to the museum. This one was a Private, real museum unlike some of the junk warehouses we previously witnessed. Not only did it have very good and interesting displays, it had a real American style, fairly clean men’s room, which I was now badly in need of.

Even though the place was very crowded, I immediately made it too said room. Upon entering I made it toward the one and only sit down facility at the aforesaid location. A few standing in my way did get trampled but it was in good cause as no one would have wanted to witness the alternative, had I waited much longer. I had thought my infirmity of the days before had subsided as I had no symptoms that night or this morning. Wrong! Even though I was in a well separated stall, people could be heard coughing and gasping as they stampeded from the room.

After the museum we drove through various areas of the city and we stopped at the palace of Sultan Qaboos called the Al Alam Palace overlooking Muscat bay. It is built between two medieval forts built by the Portuguese toward the end of the 16th century.

Next it was back along the coast and the ship to a souk that carried all kinds of items for both the locals and tourists. If we had the time, it had very narrow alleys in many directions where we were warned it was easy to get lost. There was really nothing for us to buy but Bobbi bought stuff anyhow. I wanted one of those big curved swords with the hand carved silver and gold scabbards, but after finding out they were real silver and gold and real expensive, I forgot about it.

After about an hour of looking around, the bus came back to pick us up. It was only a five minute ride back to the ship. It was about 1:00 PM and we were not due to leave until 6:00 PM.

The guide had been a Muslim wearing the usual dress as did everyone in Muscat. Most of the people there were friendly and he was very friendly. As we were entering the port area he asked us how he did while thanking us and explaining this was his first time as a tour guide. As we left the bus and gave the guide his tip I told him I would have never known it was his first time. I had thought it had to be his second time. It took him a while. They are not very swift or maybe they don’t get American or Sherman humor. Whatever, he was still mumbling something to himself as we walked away.

At 4:00 PM the doctors office opens again and I was third in line. Art had been first. He just needed another blood pressure check and did not take much time. He said the doctor told him he would live. The lady who was next, took very little time also, then it was my turn. Probably because he is 6 foot 3 inches, the doctor asks everyone to sit down as he talks to them. As I mentioned in a past log, the doctor is Russian or maybe Slav and barely speaks English. He points to the chair and says what sounds to me like
sh - -. I guess he must have meant sit, as he gave me a very funny look when I said, “no, I can’t now, I just did.” Maybe you had to be there? Anyhow, he said it sounds like something I picked up in India and he gave me some meds and a menu to follow for the next 24 hours. There wasn’t much on that menu.

We went to the main restaurant for dinner. I was able to get chicken broth with a matzo ball in it, sherbet, a cut up banana and I was allowed rice. The waiter, Joey, was real cute and brings out this huge whole jello mold of rice that had to weigh three pounds. I did eat a lot of it and had sugar free jello for dessert.

So far so good. The meds and or the food is working, however, that little bit of food was not the usual hog trough full I have become accustom to. Late at night, in my sleep, I became very hungry and without bothering to wake up, I went foraging for something to eat. I obviously didn’t bother to open my eyes either, as I tripped over the desk chair and fell on my head. Luckily it was my head as there is nothing to worry about damaging there but it did leave a big mark on the side of my forehead where it bounced off the desk. When asked about that mark I just explain that my wife is very mean and beats me a lot.

Wife Beaten Sherm Out.

Fujairah, U.A.E.

Fujairah, U.A.E. Last night was a big problem. I had been fine all day even after having a good lunch. So I also had a good dinner. I guess that was pushing it too far. Ka ka started happening again and big time. I was up much of the night. I guess I was singing the song I made up, for the occasion, a little to loudly as Bobbi was threatening to flush me if I didn’t shut up. But I know she really liked it because the first couple of times I sang it, she was laughing hysterically. The song? You want to hear the song? No you don’t. Okay, but you’ll be sorry. Actually it isn’t a song at all. Just a sweet little poem. “Through the colon, past the sphincter. Look out world, here comes a real stinker.” Kind of catchy, huh?

We were only here from about 11:30 AM to 6:30 PM. We booked a tour from 1:00 PM to 5:00 PM. I only had a English muffin for breakfast and no lunch, hoping not to have any problems. We did bring toilet paper with.

While Dubai had been a beautiful place where billions had been spent on wide roads with beautiful center islands and a terrific infrastructure, this place, in contrast, was the pits. Maybe Dubai looked a lot like this twenty or thirty years ago, but I doubt it. The roads were new and fairly smooth but that’s as far as it goes. There is green nowhere. This place is very mountainous while Dubai is flat. Wherever Dubai is undeveloped, there is clean sand and never any garbage. Fujairah is black, dirty looking and covered with all kinds of garbage just tossed and blown everywhere, for many years. Fujairah is not built up even a fraction of what Dubai is. Where mountains are normally attractive, these are ugly. They are very jagged which looks interesting until you get close enough to really see them. They are mostly black. Mile after mile of mountain there is no green anywhere. These mountains look like piles of rock and coal mixed with dirt. Everythigng looks dead. The worst part is they reminded me of the piles I had been leaving all night. They are all loose and are always falling and sliding.

There is a lot of new construction and signs for several large new hotels to be built. We are told the old ugly buildings and houses will all be torn down and replaced free of charge, to the citizens, who can only be from the original tribes. No one else can become a citizen. There are some new houses and buildings already built and many more under construction. There are taxes on nothing. No citizen works here. Outsiders do all the work in stores and all other things. Locals can be a problem. They run the police. They drive like nuts and have killed and injured many people. They can never be at fault even though many do not even have drivers licenses.

Our tour went to a museum that was not much. Right nearby was a 300 year old fort we just took pictures of. We drove by oasises and wadis. A wadi is a dried river bed. We went up to the tallest mountain in the area and the second tallest in their protected area. We were shown a ditch with garbage and told it was the grand canyon of Arabia. This ditch was about three meters across. We saw areas of new construction. Many of the houses were very nice and very large while others were plain square boxes.

We thought it was very interesting to see if not at all inviting. Others were saying it was an ugly dump and not worth having been charged to see. We were also taken to a shopping area with all closed stores to shop at. They close everything from 1:00 PM to 5:00 PM. Hard workers.

By the time we got back to the ship it was 5:30 PM and we were all starving. Thank goodness our butler had left us a pile of caviar with all the condiments. Yesterday was the start of a new segment and our slave buys us something good like that for each segment. Thanks slave. It was goooood.

Maybe I am getting better. No problem all day and even after a large dinner, so far.

Sickey Sherm Out.

Dubai, United Arab Emirates, day two

Dubai, United Arab Emirates, day two. The plan for today was to go shopping this morning as soon as we finished breakfast. There were many options for large, enclosed, air conditioned malls. We were at a junk, outdoor one yesterday and that was a waste of time. These indoor ones had all the designer stores. Some had free shuttles and there was even one just a few blocks away. But ka ka happens.

It happened all night and into the morning. I think there was stuff coming out of me that other people ate. So no shopping trip or any trip more then 20 to 30 feet from a bathroom, for me. Bobbi didn’t want to go without me or maybe she was just afraid. Muriel wasn’t going anywhere either because Art wasn’t feeling well.

There is a very nice new building, just for cruise ships, right at the bottom of the gang plank. It is only partly used. They must not have been able to rent out the space. There is, however, one tiny store. That’s all Bobbi needs. We are now the proud owners of a bag full of camels and another bag full of mouse pads that are really mini flying carpets.

This evening was our world cruisers event, a cocktail reception at the Burj Al Arab hotel. We were due to board a bus at 5:40 PM. I was ok all day and decided to give it a shot. I said “shOt”. Art was still not well so just Muriel went with us.

Traffic was heavy and there was a lot of construction. It took about forty five minutes to get there. I t is build on it’s own man made island with a short causeway leading to it. Once inside the lobby is magnificent but that is only the entry area. There were huge salt water fish tanks on either side of the two story escalators you must go up, to get to the lobby, which is even more fantastic.

This is worlds only 7 star hotel. Of course it is a self claimed 7 stars. All rooms are two story suites with butlers that bow to you and thank you for allowing them to be your slaves. Room prices are from $1,000 to $7,000 a day. Of those we spoke to who were staying there, the lowest priced they ever seem to have is $1,5000. They say the rooms are wonderful but the food and service leaves much to be desired. They liked our ship’s food and service much better.

We got into a huge glass elevator that went up the outside of the building, facing the ocean. The ball room, to which we were going, was on the 27th floor. As all floors are two floors, it was really the 54th floor. After a walk through a formal entry hall and through two sets of fantastic doors, we came to a balcony that circled the main part of the ballroom, below which was also a circle. There was a huge gold dome in the ceiling from which hung a huge crystal chandler. The walls were tastefully while ornately decorated. The floors had beautiful plush carpet with designs in it. The room was gorgeous except for the half dozen huge, over ten foot high, garish TVs playing ads for the hotel.

To get down from the entry balcony there was a pretty stairway with dirty carpet. They told us the elevator between the upper and lower floor was not working or rather they lied to us, it was not working as I later saw them using it. They just like to screw around Americans whenever they think they can get away with it.

They, of course, knew how many people would be attending but had only half the number of waiters, drinks and hors d’oeuvres needed. This, self proclaimed, seven star property did not even have napkins to give out with the drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

After about 45 minutes of standing around, talking and taking pictures with the captain, we tired of the event. There were no chairs or seating of any kind, so we took off for the return buses. Obviously many if not most thought the same as there was a crowd going to the elevators.

The traffic was far worse going back as there was much more construction with four lanes going into one several times. It took over an hour to get back and none of us had dinner yet. Needless to say we did make it on time and did not starve to death or have to order room service.

Brown Geyser Sherm Out

(Posted on behalf of Sherman Rootberg)